Pablo Pacino - Fresh Rillo lyrics

[Verse 1: Callon B] Ay, who here got a fresh rillo? Talking Good Times, where the Zig Zags? I'm a White Owl, with a six pack Go ahead and split that, if you mention weed then you mention me Bet I crack a chick like a Swisher Suit So we burnt out, know we turnt up I'm yo favorite rapper you ain't ever heard of I ain't ever heard much, when you spit rhymes Claiming y'all dope, and I don't even get high All y'all weak as reggie, loud pack got me edgy We rollin up confetti, dabs just make me sweaty But I'm willing more than ready homie twirl it like spaghetti Grab a brew up out the Yetti, all my JunkieZ going veggie You ain't on my level facing Backwoods on a back road That good on a citation, f** jail I pa**ed go Elevated head change, vacays when I'm at home Universe in my eyes hoe, see it through these black holes [Chorus: Callon B] I gets high, all my homies ditto, turnt up bet we never hit a pillow Sippin Amaretto, breaking down the willow Ay, and if you go to the store, I need a fresh rillo (Pablo Pacino) - Rillo, Rillo, Rillo Get me a fresh rillo (Pablo Pacino) - Rillo, Rillo, Rillo Pick up a fresh rillo The smoke billow, give me brain she a sicko Uh, when the beat drop buss it like a fresh rillo [Verse 2: Pablo Pacino] I need a thrax pack, I'm gonna tax that Garcia Vegaaaaa you can't match that You smoking reggie bush, I'm smokin hella kush You buying 8 piece, I'm copin OZ's The like Tov please, can we hit ya blunt? I'm like no n***aaaa, you can't smoke with us This is what I'm on every day, getting paid catching plays and I'm blowing on haze My white boy get it in the mail from LA Big Pablo baby blown smoke in ya face They better cool down before I catch me a case I take a L out the pound blow it straight to the brain They smoking mid grade but I can't complain Said they smoking mid grade but I can't complain If you hit the store I'ma tell you what I need A fresh rillo and something to drank hahhh [Chorus: Callon B] [Verse 3: Callon B] Callon B a known stoner ain't a stone colder, hit your home and leave a dro odor I'm a home owner Off my real estate, GYB home of where the realist stay All of y'all are sleeping I'ma throw away your pillow case Ridin in the car, pine in the jar Mind in the stars, Mayan Cigars This is the highest that I've been by far and I'm always high when I'm writing a bar So light up the cannabis, take a puff and hand her it People say it's bad, but really I don't care a bit Spitting straight forward but a walking panoramic flick Mixing highs and lows I don't know how the f** I'm managing DWA, the weeds probably laced Reality is faint but I'm often awake Wavy muhf**a, so lost in the wake They wanted a hit so I brought in the ba** [Chorus: Callon B]